Read Online Celadonian Tales Vol: 1 Blood and Brass by Walter Shuler - Free Book Online
Authors: Walter Shuler
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highness. It will not stop then."
"Of course it won't! But when Bran is burned and blackened, I can finally have some peace!" Davin's words cut Bran to the core. This was not the brother who had argued for Bran's right to tell his story before the Council. This was someone else, a Davin who hungered for Bran's impending death.
"Yes, with Bran finally disposed of, we can tie up loose ends here in the city. But what of the overall plan?"
"Mind your questions, Cornar! Lest you forget, I rule in Celadon, not you!"
"Of course, my king, of course, I forgot myself."
"See that you remember whom you serve, dog," Davin's voice was cold. "Leave me now; I will go on alone. You have things to attend to, so get about them!" There was silence then, followed by the sound of footsteps moving away. There must be another passage up ahead, Bran surmised, as the footsteps began to recede once again.
Davin wanted him dead. What was this? Had his brother orchestrated the entire thing? Was Davin behind all the murders? Anger flared anew in his heart, wreathing his mind in cold hate. Bran would find out the truth. New footsteps echoed off the stone, alerting Bran that his brother was on the move.
Bran hastened to follow, watchful that his candle did not give him away. In mere feet, he rounded a turn and found the intersection where Cornar and Davin must have entered. Both left and right hand passages were a confusion of footprints in the deep dust. The area seemed heavily traveled, a fact that struck Bran as very strange. Which way, though, left or right? Davin's footsteps seemed to have moved away to Bran's right, but sound was confusing in these timeless passages. He turned right. If he was wrong, then so be it.
The new passage sloped steeply down, with crude steps placed every few feet to provide better purchase. The walls were natural stone now, roughly hewn and still showing the tool marks from centuries past. The way ahead was dark, but Bran could hear the faintest echo of Davin's footsteps if he stilled his breathing. He hastened on.
The passage narrowed and widened, the work of inexpert hands. Bran seethed, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he walked. He passed beneath a low arch in the passage and the left-hand wall suddenly dropped away. Bran emerged into a natural cavern, the roof so high it was invisible.
He stood on a narrow path cut into the side of the cavern wall. To his left, there was only deep night, a drop that might have been five feet or five hundred. Somewhere in the distance, Bran heard rushing water.
Farther down the path, Bran could make out a pinprick of light that must have been Davin's torch. He blocked the candle's light with his hand, fearful that it would give him away. A second later, the pinprick of light that marked Davin's path disappeared.
With Davin no longer in sight, Bran picked up his pace, though the path was treacherous. Water glimmered on the walls, reflecting the candlelight, and trickled onto the path. It made the stone beneath his boots slick, but his anger drove him on faster than caution would dictate.
The path down was long, and Bran was winded by the time he reached the bottom. He paused to survey the area. The path he walked ended in a black pool. The edge of the pool curved away into the darkness, and was paved with white stones. A glance at them showed distorted faces, some human, some misshapen beasts. All seemed malevolent. What strange place was this? A gap in the paving stones allowed the dark waters to rush out, forming an underground river that flowed away into the cavern to his left.
Bran looked around. The pool lay in a depression, surrounded by stone on three sides. The path he followed wound its way down the face of one side, ending before the pool. Around the pool was a narrow path of gravel, and Bran could just make out a dark shape on the opposite side of the pool. Was this the way that Davin had gone? Bran saw no other options, unless his brother decided to swim
"Of course it won't! But when Bran is burned and blackened, I can finally have some peace!" Davin's words cut Bran to the core. This was not the brother who had argued for Bran's right to tell his story before the Council. This was someone else, a Davin who hungered for Bran's impending death.
"Yes, with Bran finally disposed of, we can tie up loose ends here in the city. But what of the overall plan?"
"Mind your questions, Cornar! Lest you forget, I rule in Celadon, not you!"
"Of course, my king, of course, I forgot myself."
"See that you remember whom you serve, dog," Davin's voice was cold. "Leave me now; I will go on alone. You have things to attend to, so get about them!" There was silence then, followed by the sound of footsteps moving away. There must be another passage up ahead, Bran surmised, as the footsteps began to recede once again.
Davin wanted him dead. What was this? Had his brother orchestrated the entire thing? Was Davin behind all the murders? Anger flared anew in his heart, wreathing his mind in cold hate. Bran would find out the truth. New footsteps echoed off the stone, alerting Bran that his brother was on the move.
Bran hastened to follow, watchful that his candle did not give him away. In mere feet, he rounded a turn and found the intersection where Cornar and Davin must have entered. Both left and right hand passages were a confusion of footprints in the deep dust. The area seemed heavily traveled, a fact that struck Bran as very strange. Which way, though, left or right? Davin's footsteps seemed to have moved away to Bran's right, but sound was confusing in these timeless passages. He turned right. If he was wrong, then so be it.
The new passage sloped steeply down, with crude steps placed every few feet to provide better purchase. The walls were natural stone now, roughly hewn and still showing the tool marks from centuries past. The way ahead was dark, but Bran could hear the faintest echo of Davin's footsteps if he stilled his breathing. He hastened on.
The passage narrowed and widened, the work of inexpert hands. Bran seethed, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he walked. He passed beneath a low arch in the passage and the left-hand wall suddenly dropped away. Bran emerged into a natural cavern, the roof so high it was invisible.
He stood on a narrow path cut into the side of the cavern wall. To his left, there was only deep night, a drop that might have been five feet or five hundred. Somewhere in the distance, Bran heard rushing water.
Farther down the path, Bran could make out a pinprick of light that must have been Davin's torch. He blocked the candle's light with his hand, fearful that it would give him away. A second later, the pinprick of light that marked Davin's path disappeared.
With Davin no longer in sight, Bran picked up his pace, though the path was treacherous. Water glimmered on the walls, reflecting the candlelight, and trickled onto the path. It made the stone beneath his boots slick, but his anger drove him on faster than caution would dictate.
The path down was long, and Bran was winded by the time he reached the bottom. He paused to survey the area. The path he walked ended in a black pool. The edge of the pool curved away into the darkness, and was paved with white stones. A glance at them showed distorted faces, some human, some misshapen beasts. All seemed malevolent. What strange place was this? A gap in the paving stones allowed the dark waters to rush out, forming an underground river that flowed away into the cavern to his left.
Bran looked around. The pool lay in a depression, surrounded by stone on three sides. The path he followed wound its way down the face of one side, ending before the pool. Around the pool was a narrow path of gravel, and Bran could just make out a dark shape on the opposite side of the pool. Was this the way that Davin had gone? Bran saw no other options, unless his brother decided to swim
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